


we on the same team (and we ballin')

by ahausonfire (thisiswherethefishlives)



Series: Lip Sync for the Hockey Player's Soul [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Background Relationships, Chirping Is Flirting Is Love, Dex has so many feelings, Established Relationship, He's a big boy with bigger feelings all the time, Lip Syncs, M/M, Note: If you love the spawn half as much as I do it will be a lot, too many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/ahausonfire
Summary: “So, were you serious last night about getting the gang back together for another lip sync?”And apparently the tub juice had gotten to Will a little more than he remembered, because… what.“What. That doesn’t sound like an idea I would have. Are you sure you’re not confusing me with your other boyfriend?”“Shut up, you know you’re my one and only, honeylips. You can deny it all you want, but last night you were two-hundred percent pushing for us to do a lip sync tribute for Bitty.”Will opens his mouth to argue, only for the words to get stuck in his throat as Derek wags a finger at him, which. Rude.“Seriously. I have witnesses, and I’m pretty sure that at least one of those witnesses was recording. You were all ‘we have to do something for Bitty’ and ‘our Camila is leaving, just like in Fifth Harmony’ and there were definitely tears. Like, I love you, but you were a messy mess last night.”“I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re thenice onein this relationship, Nurse. All you do is torture me.”





	we on the same team (and we ballin')

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY, THE MUCH REQUESTED (BY MYSELF) FOLLOW UP TO 'LET MY BODY DO THE WORK'. 
> 
> IT'S NOT NECESSARY TO WATCH [FIFTH HARMONY'S ACTUAL VIDEO](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNWlrawfRAI), BUT I'M ALWAYS DOWN TO PUSH FIFTH HARMONY ON THE UNSUSPECTING.

Like so many of the questionable decisions that take root in the Haus, it starts with an idea and a complete lack of impulse control. Also, tub juice, but mostly the idea thing. At least, that’s how Will _thinks_ it all starts, but it’s hard to focus with the throbbing in his head as a sharp counterpoint to the warmth of Derek spooned behind him, and _god_.

“I can’t believe Bitty’s graduating,” he groans, each word a reminder that he didn’t brush his teeth last night, and really, he’s a mess. He’s a mess, and Bitty is graduating, and everything feels horrible. “We have to do something for him.”

“I can’t believe that you’re talking right now,” Derek grumbles, his breath tickling the hairs at the back of Will’s neck, a physical reminder of just how close they are. “I can’t believe you would _do_ that to me - the man that you love - the man that went drink for drink with you last night. How _dare_?!”

Despite the throbbing behind his temples, Will can’t help but smile at his boyfriend’s antics. Because he’s kind of the best, most extra, most amazing thing that’s ever happened to him, and hangover or not, Will loves him.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, wriggling back until he’s got Derek as close to him as physically possible, reveling in how warm and soft he is in the privacy of their room. “Go back to sleep and I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Blowjob?” Derek asks, and Will can feel his dick twitch behind him. Which. Would be flattering if they weren’t feeling so mutually shitty. As it is, Will kind of wants to punch his dick just for _considering_ getting any right now.

“Yeah, maybe when my body doesn’t feel like death. Until then, I was thinking breakfast. Maybe some eggs, some pancakes... _sausage._ ”

“Oh my _god,_ I can’t believe that you would mention food right now,” and yeah, any dick twitching that may have been happening behind the scenes is gone like a flash as Derek throws the blankets back and rushes to the bathroom, groaning urgently the whole way.

“Love you, babe,” Will yells after him as the bathroom door slams open, wincing at his own volume as he snuggles further under the covers towards sleep.

* * *

It’s only later, as they settle down in front of a breakfast platter fit for the gods, that Derek picks up their conversation from earlier. “So, were you serious last night about getting the gang back together for another lip sync?”

And apparently the tub juice had gotten to Will a little more than he remembered, because… what.

“What. That doesn’t sound like an idea I would have. Are you sure you’re not confusing me with your other boyfriend?”

“Shut up, you know you’re my one and only, honeylips. You can deny it all you want, but last night you were two-hundred percent pushing for us to do a lip sync tribute for Bitty.”

Will opens his mouth to argue, only for the words to get stuck in his throat as Derek wags a finger at him, which. Rude.

“Seriously. I have witnesses, and I’m pretty sure that at least one of those witnesses was recording. You were all ‘ _we have to do something for Bitty_ ’ and ‘ _our Camila is leaving, just like in Fifth Harmony_ ’ and there were definitely tears. Like, I love you, but you were a messy mess last night.”

“I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re the _nice one_ in this relationship, Nurse. All you do is torture me.”

“Awwww, snugglebuns,” Derek coos before taking another bite of his waffle, syrup dripping all over the place. “You always say the sweetest things.”

He doesn’t take it personally when Will flips him off, at least not based on the way that he tangles their ankles together under the table. And, yeah. It’s nice. It’s _been_ nice ever since they got together freshman year, and Will’s hoping that it just keeps getting better.

Honestly, that’s probably part of the reason why his drunk-ass self suggested another lip sync. The first one was the whole damn reason he _got_ with Derek. It’s kind of their _thing_ , even if it’s not something they’ve repeated since. It’s the kind of story that you read about in the newspaper - _happy couple brought together through the power of song and suggestive dance_ \- and it’s the kind of story that Will wants to tell their kids about one day.

“Hey,” Derek says, soft enough that it really shouldn’t startle Will half as much as it does. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I was just thinking about the last time we did a lip sync. It was-” If Will was softer, he’d say that it was the best thing that ever happened to him. He’d probably say a lot of things, but the look that Derek shoots him from across the table speaks volumes. It tells him that Derek _knows_. “It was a lot of work, even with Lardo helming it. I don’t know if we could pull it off.”

“Sweetums, you’re not thinking of the bigger picture.”

“Der, I’m pretty sure that’s _exactly_ what I’m thinking about. Do you even _remember_ how much work went into ‘Work From Home’? Like… there are costumes to think about, and choreography, and set design. We’d have to think about casting, blocking, and that doesn’t even begin to cover how we’re going to afford it without Jack backing the whole thing. It’s just… a _lot_ of work.”

By the end of his spiel, Will feels winded under the weight of all the work that they haven’t even agreed to take on yet, and, like. It’s a lot. It’s so much. But when he looks to Derek for understanding - for solidarity - all he sees is his dork boyfriend grinning at him with syrup all over his shirt. Because, Will might have been a messy mess last night, but Derek is forever a literal, actual mess, twenty-four seven.

“Sugarplum, stop glaring at me like I moved your toolbox. I completely agree that it’s a lot of work, but, honestly, that’s what you have me for.”

“Uh huh. Unless you’re gonna pull both Jack Zimmermann’s wallet out of one pocket and Lardo out of other, I don’t see how you’re gonna make this work, babe.”

And yeah, it’s not like Will _really_ means to make the whole thing a challenge, but it’s clear from the way that Derek’s eyes go flinty that he’s taking the whole thing on. It shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, but hey.

That’s kind of their whole thing.

“Listen, Poindexter. If you agree to do this thing with me for Bitty - for our _captain_ \- I will make it happen. I will make your _dream come true_.”

“Babe, how are you gonna make that happen? You _literally_ just sat through all the reasons why we can’t do this on our own.”

“Oh, ye of little faith!” The smirk on Derek’s face just grows in size and power as Will rolls his eyes at him, and it’s so clear in this moment that Will has lost this not-even-an-argument. “All you have to do is sign on, and then all my secrets will be yours.”

“Okay, Nurse. I’m in. You convinced me,” Will deadpans before reaching across the table to snag Derek’s last sausage. Because, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how betrayed Derek looks at the action. Will is going to need all the strength he can get if they’re going to survive this. With a good half of the sausage still clutched in his hand, he gestures for Derek to continue. “C’mon. I agreed to your non-existent plan. I’m _in_. It’s time for you to share your secrets.”

Fast as lightning, Derek grabs his wrist, leaning forward to take a bite out of the sausage before slouching back in his chair. And, yeah, Will probably deserved that, not that he’ll ever admit it. He takes advantage of Derek’s chewing to stick the rest of the sausage into his own mouth for safe keeping.

“The secret’s simple, my lil honey-bunches-of-oats. It’s called _outsourcing_.”

* * *

To Derek’s credit, the first meeting of The Super Secret Society of Lip Sync Aficionados and Friends Working Together to Celebrate Bitty (also known as the SSSLSAFWTCB for short) goes a lot smoother than Will would have ever predicted. Mostly because outsourcing works.

Who’d’ve thunk.

Because, _yeah_. If left to their own devices, there’s a good chance that nothing would have gotten done. Will would have gotten stuck on the details and Derek would have gotten stuck in glue, and it would have been a mess. Looking back at the last time they did this, the only reason the ‘Work From Home’ video happened was that Bitty and Lardo ran a tight ship.

This time, though?

This time they might have a leg up on the process, thanks to Derek’s quick (and, in hindsight, super obvious) thinking.

Because this time?

This time they have a stage manager.

“Alright, boys. We’re working on a tight schedule, but we can make this work if we all stay focused.

“I know that the team consensus is that we’re going to celebrate Bitty’s graduation by lip syncing to Fifth Harmony’s ‘Down’. That being said, I think that the first thing we’re going to do as a group is study the ‘Work From Home’ video that Lardo directed two years ago before splitting into individual assignments. It’s important that we capture the energy and the confidence of the first lip sync while keeping in mind that we’ll be creating a whole new aesthetic.

“I’m going to keep you all on a tight leash of the course of the next two months, and I expect you to bring your A-game each and every day.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ford. We _get_ it,” Nursey drawls as he hauls himself up from where he had been keeping Will’s side warm, standing up in order to better chirp her. “There’s no crying in lip syncing, we know.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe that you’re coming for me like that.” Ford groans, slapping Derek’s hands away when he goes for a hug. “This is what I get for quoting ‘A League of Their Own’ _once_. It was _one time_.”

And just like that any leg up they could have had on the lip sync goes straight out the window, because all at once there are chirps flying from every corner of the room at a mile a minute, with the tadpoles and spawn throwing down the gauntlet as Chowder and Farmer snuggle up on Whiskey’s bed, watching like it’s Wimbledon or something, and this is one-hundred percent what Will was dreading when Derek first suggested they make a go of Will’s drunken idea.

Because, as much as everyone is on board to make this the best lip sync ever, without Bitty to whip everyone into shape, it’s very likely that nothing will get done at all.

And, look. Will loves his team, and he’s glad that they’ve got Ford to run the ship, but her stage management skills don’t hold up well against the temptation of flirting with Tango and Whiskey. And he loves Chowder, but he’s getting way too much enjoyment out of the team’s shenanigans, and, perhaps most importantly, Will is freezing.

After being spoiled by all the control that Will has had when it comes to maintaining the Haus and making it run smoothly, nothing reminds him of what he left behind like sitting in Whiskey’s dorm, freezing his ass off because they refuse to let the students moderate the ambient temperature.

Seriously. Fuck campus living.

Because if there’s one thing that Will hates, it’s being cold. Also, wasting time. Which makes it two things he hates, but whatever. The point still stands. Which sucks, because it means that Will has to be the bad guy. _Again_.

“Alright, everyone, just shut up,” he says - shouts really, in order to be heard over everyone getting in on the joke - and _great_ , now the spawn are going to be scared of him. _Again_. Honestly, being the straight man sucks sometimes. “Less quoting Tom Hanks characters and more Fifth Harmony, please. The sooner we watch the video, the sooner we can break down our assignments so that we can get the fuck out of here.”

With goosebumps out in full force, Will hauls his boyfriend back onto Whiskey’s roommate’s bed, making sure that Derek wraps an arm around his shoulders for good measure.

“Awwww, my lil pigeon pie, look at you bossing around the team like a _boss_ ,” Derek croons as he pulls Will in closer, and Will can feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment at the endearment even as he melts back into Derek’s side. “Dex is right, let’s focus so we can get the fuck out of here. I don’t know how you children deal with dorm living, it’s cold as balls.”

And, yeah.

Maybe Will hates being cold, and maybe he hates having to be the one to always crack the whip, but none of it really matters when he’s got Derek to lean on.

Maybe rewatching the super obvious pining between him and Derek throughout the ‘Work From Home’. performance is a little mortifying, but it’s worth it for the little grin that Derek wears for the rest of the day.

And maybe Will is going to have to step up to the plate a little bit more than he had wanted to at first, but it’s going to be worth it. It has to be worth it. Because _Bitty_ is worth it.

With resignation seeping deep into his bones, Will settles in for the long haul and sets the video to play from the beginning. Because if they’re gonna do this, they’re gonna do it right.

* * *

“This is so boring,” Derek whines from where he’s perched on top of the washing machine, and really, if he’s bored, it’s his own damn fault.

“I told you that you’d have more fun with the choreo group, but _no_ , you wanted to help me with costumes. Said it would be _easy_ , if I remember correctly. If you’re really that bored, you can always go help Bitty’s duckling with interference.”

“You really need to stop calling him that, sweetheart. Rudy’s going to start thinking that you hate him, and then where are we going to be next year when Bitty isn’t around to keep his frown from falling down?”

And, look.

Will _loves_ him, he does, but if he has to spend the rest of this project listening to Derek whine about how boring and how difficult and how tedious costume design is while simultaneously lecturing him on the proper care and keeping of freshmen spawn, they may not make it to senior year. At the very least, Will could be driven to doing something that would necessitate having to take correspondence courses from prison, and he’s _far_ too pretty for that. At least, that’s what Derek says when Will half-heartedly threatens him, so. Whatever.

“Look, honey nut, the whole thing sounded _much easier_ when we were just going to be wearing lingerie and rolling around on beds and in pools. I don’t understand why we couldn’t just stick to the original vision.”

“ _Babe_ , you were at that meeting - the whole point is that we’re taking the energy of the last lip sync and we’re making this video our own. So instead of just copying the video frame by frame, that means we’re going a little less _literal-_ ”

“I know, I know,” Derek cuts in, and if this were two years ago, Will probably would have been pissed about it. As it is now, he just rolls his eyes and gets back to the rack of thrifted clothes in front of him that still have to be tailored. “I was kind of looking forward to it, though…”

And yeah, suddenly all the pouting makes a little more sense.

“Derek, you know you can wear lingerie any time you want, right? Like, _obviously_ within reason, but if that’s something you want to experiment with, you know that I _always_ have your back.”

From the way that Derek goes rigid, head ducking down under Will’s scrutiny, it’s pretty clear that Will hit the nail right on the fucking head. At least, it does until Derek looks back up, holding Will’s gaze like he’s got something to prove.

It’s a look that Will has come to appreciate.

Within reason.

“What if I wanted _you_ to wear it?”

And, yeah.

With the way that Derek’s looking at him, hot enough he can feel it from across the room, Will would be hard pressed to deny him anything.

 _Anything_.

And really, it’s a dangerous thing.

It’s also deeply, _deeply_ frustrating, because as much as Will _wants_ to chase after the heat in Derek’s eyes until they’re both sticky with it, he _knows_ that he has to put his foot down because they’re never going to get this done if they keep stopping everytime Derek gives him _the eyes_. Twice was already more than enough, and if they go for three times they’re going to be _way_ off schedule.

“Okay, we’re benching this discussion for later - and stop with the pouting - I’m leaning towards a strong yes, but Bitty gets back from Providence tomorrow, so I want to make as much progress as possible before we have to bring everything upstairs.”

“I still don’t get why we can’t just work up there. It would be so much easier than hauling everything back and forth every time Bits’ schedule allows.”

Will doesn’t mean to sigh at that, he really doesn’t, because he knows that Derek sees it as a dismissal, but they’ve had this conversation a hundred times and the answer doesn’t change.

“ _Babe_. Look, I know that it’s a pain in the ass, but we can’t leave everything where Bitty could see it, and we are _not_ going to get anything done if we work from our room. There’s no space to spread out, and I refuse to lose anymore time to your inability to keep your hands to yourself.”

“C’mon, sweet cheeks. I’m not _that bad_ , right?”

“ _Derek_. This is the third shirt that I’ve had to change into today because you’ve managed to come on the first two. I love you, and I love _being_ with you, but we are going to run out of time if you don’t get your dick under control.”

If Derek were anyone else, he would probably look the slightest bit penitent for everything that he’s putting Will through at the moment, but if he were anyone else Will wouldn’t be _here_ , casually putting a limit on the amount of sex they could be having all because Derek apparently gets off on the idea of Will rolling around in lace.

Fucking deadlines.

“I thought you _liked_ my dick, schnookums.” Derek’s glancing at him with what he probably thinks are bedroom eyes, but which are - in actuality - just his regular eyes with a smirk pasted below them, and it’s probably supposed to be sexy, but Will does not have time for this.

“Okay, first off? I’m calling foul because you’ve already called me schnookums today. Second off? Cool your jets long enough for us to get this done, and I’ll wear all the sexy underwear you want.”

“Within reason?” Derek asks, coy as anything and clearly pleased as punch to have gotten his way.

It shouldn’t be charming.

“If we get this done before Bitty gets home, I’ll consider throwing reason out the window just this once.”

And, yeah. That’s probably a dangerous promise, what with the way that Derek’s eyes have gone round and bright like a kid at Christmas, but… well, he _knows_ Derek. He _loves_ Derek, and trusts that he loves him too. More than that, he trusts that Derek won’t hurt him, won’t humiliate him, won’t abuse his trust.

In light of that, there’s nothing that Will wouldn’t trust him with.

Well, nothing aside from their swiftly approaching deadline. Because there’s nothing that Derek does quite as well as procrastinating. According to him, it’s an English major thing; though, to be honest, Will’s always just taken that with the smallest grain of salt.

* * *

“I don’t understand how a group of student athletes can be so backwards when it comes to their bodies. The amount of disappointment that I have right now is just… I can’t even _look_ at you right now. I can’t- I’m _disgusted_.”

Will would probably take Ford’s tantrum a little closer to heart if it wasn’t the fifth one in the past three days. As it stands? Yeah, they’re all tired - Ford included - and they’re all edging past the border of frustration, and it’s a lot. Considering how simple the dance routine _looks_ in the video? Yeah, considering _that_ , it’s _way_ too much.

Because, like, _apparently_ they all managed to fool themselves into a false sense of security.

“It’s like she keeps forgetting that y’all are white as hell,” Derek says, leaning close enough to Will’s side that Ford won’t hear him.

“Babe… how does that explain _you_?”

Derek gasps at that, as if he’s offended that Will would even _suggest_ that he can’t dance. “Well fuck you very much, peanut. I’ll have you know that I can dance beautifully - it’s gotta be all the rubbing off on me you’ve been doing that’s brought me down to your level.”

And, sure.

If they hadn’t spent the past three nights struggling with what should have been simple choreography, there’s a chance that Will would have let him have it.

The thing _is_ , it turns out that Derek can’t fucking dance to save his life.

Sexy dancing where he feels the music and can grind? Sure. Derek can do that.

Honestly, Derek can do that so well that it’s at least fifty percent of the reason they got together in the first place.

But choreography? Clearly not his strong point. Because, the more they practice their moves, the more obvious it becomes that ‘Work From Home’ was an outlier, and that it should never have been counted.

The Will of a year ago might have pushed the subject. The Will of _two_ years ago would have pushed it for sure until the conversation devolved into something it didn’t have to be - something that wasn’t easily mended. Luckily, he’s neither of those Wills; he knows enough these days to just smile and nod.

“Oh my god,” Derek hisses, and okay, maybe the Will of today isn’t doing to great at this either. “Are you placating me? Did you just do the ‘ _Yes, Dear_ ’ smile and nod at me?”

There’s genuine outrage in Derek’s voice, which is why it’s so utterly confusing when he pushes forward to plant an obnoxiously wet kiss on Will’s cheek.

“I’m rewarding you because that was incredibly domestic and I love it when you’re domestic, but I wouldn’t suggest doing that in the future, pudding pop. I don’t do too well with placating.”

Which. What the fuck. Will can think of at least three instances where the exact opposite was true.

“What are you talking about, you _love_ being placated. It’s how we’ve dealt with the majority of our arguments.”

“No, no, _no_ , kitten. I don’t _do_ placation. I _do_ , however, enjoy being right. There’s a difference.”

And, that… yeah, that’s just hurting Will’s head. The whole conversation is just hurting his fucking head, and he would say as much if it weren’t for the way that Ford is glaring at them. And seriously, how long has _that_ been going on without anyone giving a heads up? A quick glance over at Chowder makes it clear that it’s been long enough to be yelled at.

“Is there something you two would like to share with the rest of the class?” She asks in the same sweet tone that Bitty’s been known to use after discovering that one of his pies has been tampered with. It’s the unassuming, pleasant tone of a tiny person on the verge of murder. After three years, Will knows that tone _well_ , and he’s quick to shake his head in the negative, because _no_ , there is _nothing_ that he would like to share with the rest of the group.

Derek, on the other hand, is an asshole.

“I was just explaining to Poindexter here how his whiteness has impaired my god-given ability to dance. It’s important that he knows just how this relationship is impacting me.”

Ford mumbles something that sounds a lot like _patience_ under her breath, and for a moment Will thinks that they may not get out of the studio alive, but then she takes a deep breath and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Every single one of you is wasting my time, and I want you to know that I am _only_ doing this because Bitty deserves an epic send off. Also, my Skype sessions are to the point where literally everyone else involved is ready for this except for _you_ , so I’m not about to let a bunch of undergraduate hockey fools _ruin this_ for me. I mean, for Bitty, shut up.”

* * *

“So, I don’t remember this being the aesthetic in the original video?”

Honestly, Tango’s question shouldn’t get under Will’s skin the way that it does. Because he _knows_ that the costumes aren’t up to the same level they were last time. And, _really_ , he should have expected this after the first round of fittings.

The problem is that on their own, each outfit isn’t exactly the _worst_. Like. They’re not _great_ \- with their mix of fluorescent faux fur, leopard print ranging in style from mail order bride all the way to Lisa Frank, and way too much pleather - but they’re not _horrible_ until you put them all together.

“I know,” he sighs, trying to keep the whining he feels in his heart out of his voice. “At this point, it kind of _is_ what it is.”

“What’s what?” Derek asks as he comes out the bathroom that they’ve fashioned into a changing room. And of course, Will would have to date the only person in the world that can actually pull this off. Bastard.

“Tango was just commenting on how he didn’t remember the original aesthetic of the ‘Down’ video being Project Runway Reject Chic. It’s okay, man,” Will says, bringing a hand up to cut him off from what is no doubt a prolonged series of apologies that sound more like questions than anything else.

“I am… _completely_ aware that the current aesthetic is a little less Fifth Harmony and a little more like that one episode where the designers have to create outfits for drag queens, except the designers aren’t used to designing women’s clothing in men’s sizes, so they spend the entire episode bitching and whining because they’re going against their various aesthetics.”

By the time he’s done talking, Will has to take a deep breath, and everyone else has fallen silent. Which is kind of a big deal when it comes to the SMH. If he weren’t feeling so completely disappointed with himself, he would probably be a little proud.

“Dex, holy shit,” Whiskey says, and apparently Will wasn’t the only one that wasn’t prepared for his outburst, “that is _exactly_ what we look like, what the fuck.”

“ _Freckle face_ , I am, like, super proud of you,” Derek says as he strides over, magnificent in his sequined vest and feather boa combination, a flurry of movement that ends with him cupping Will’s face tenderly in his hands. And really, he’s _so_ fucking extra. “Seriously, that was such a well-crafted, overly detailed example, and I am _crazy_ in love with you.”

“Thank you?” Will asks, doing his damndest to fight back the blush that he can feel rising on his cheeks. It only gets harder to resist when Derek smiles at him like Will’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, because really, who even _does_ that?

“No, baby. Thank _you_. I’m gonna blow your entire _mind_ when we get back the Haus. Like, I’m gonna do _that thing_.”

And _yeah_ , he is the most extra person in Will’s entire life. He is also the _hottest_ , because holy shit, Will _loves_ that thing. Holy shit. And, like, Will loves him, but this is not something that Will needs to be thinking about when he’s surrounded by the rest of the team; because, like, he can one-hundred percent feel them watching, just like he can feel all the blood in his head rush straight to his fucking dick. The whole thing makes him simultaneously want to crawl into a hole and climb his ridiculous boyfriend like a pole.

It’s a confusing sensation, but it’s nothing new.

Not really.

“So, I didn’t realize it was possible,” Lardo says from where she’s propped against the door frame, “but you guys got so much grosser since graduation. Congrats?”

And just like that, all the tension drains out of the room as she swans in. And, god, she is a sight for sore eyes. Trailing behind her like a troupe of well-trained ducklings are Shitty, Ransom, and Holster, and it’s almost surreal how the vibe changes into something well-lived in and familiar.

It makes Will ache for last year, and for the year before that. Because it’s only now that he’s seeing them that he realizes just how much he’s missed them and how little time he has left.

“You okay?” Derek asks, quiet enough where he’s not bringing attention to them for the first time all day. Even though his hands aren’t cradling Will’s face anymore, he still manages to keep Will grounded, huddled close with one of his arms wrapped comfortably around Will’s waist.

“Yeah, I just… I guess I just realized how much I’m gonna miss Bitty.”

To his credit, Derek doesn’t chirp Will over his sentimental heart, and he doesn’t pull out any false platitudes - he just tightens his hold and pulls Will closer. And, really, that’s all he needed.

Because, yeah. This whole _project_ is an exercise in letting go, and there are moments where Will has gotten caught up in it... but then Derek brings him back to earth like he always does, and it’s all okay.

Because, somehow, even though it’s crazy and romantic and more than a little naive, Will doesn’t think he’ll ever have to say goodbye to him.

Slowly, the rest of the group filters into the room, and it’s pretty damn great. A room full of people, all here for the sole purpose of celebrating Bitty - of lifting him up and saying goodbye and holding him close all at once, and _yeah_. They may look like a group of fashion-challenged rejects, but they’re _Bitty’s_ fashion-challenged rejects.

And _that_ , apparently, makes all the difference.

* * *

Derek’s hand is high on Will’s right thigh, and Chowder’s is a feather-light weight where it’s resting on Will’s left knee, and honestly, there’s nowhere else that he’d rather be than sandwiched between two of the most important people in his life. Because it’s been three years of ups and downs, triumphs and bullshit, and it’s all culminated into the realization that they’re stronger than ever.

That they’re facing their senior year together.

That hopefully that won’t be the end.

Because, for real, it’s hard enough sitting through the end of year banquet with Bitty across the table from them, alternating between smiling and getting misty-eyed, and even though it’s not the _end_ , it _is_ the start of something new.

Once finals are over and everyone’s packed up, Bitty will be moving to Providence, Whiskey and Tango will be sharing the attic, Ford will move her stuff into Bitty’s room, and it’s all going to be different.

Not bad, and not necessarily _strange_ or anything, but different.

There will be less pies, less southern hospitality, and no one left to gloat over the demise of the couch - and honestly, it really is just like what happened with Fifth Harmony (minus the cattiness and the whole VMAs snub). They’re losing their Camila, and even if the rest of the group will carry on without her, it’s never gonna be the same.

And _god_ , what are they going to call the next batch of incoming freshmen? There’s only so far back you can go in a frog’s life cycle.

“Oh my _god_ , cookie puss, are you crying?”

And seriously, leave it to Derek to blow up his spot. Will wipes at his eyes in a totally natural, masculine way before slapping at Derek’s chest, because he can fuck right off.

“ _I hate it when you call me that, Der_ ,” and yeah, he’s totally whining, but he is feeling _vulnerable_ , damnit.

“I know, and I’m sorry… but you really, _really_ can’t pull off _Fudgie the Whale_ as a nickname. We _tried_ , but it’s just not you.” And yeah, he’s a total asshole, but he’s _Will’s_ asshole - doing his best to bully Will into laughing - and fuck if it doesn’t work.

With a shaky laugh, Will leans over into Derek’s space, careful as he whispers so that no one else will overhear. “Babe, that’s _racist_.”

Derek’s gasp, though very dramatic and well executed, is drowned out when Coach Hall gets up to give his end of year speech, and yeah. This is what they’re all here for.

Looking back and moving forward.

The future.

Whiskey’s awarded the Carlisle, and yeah. That makes sense. Because, as rough as his start with the team had been (the drama when he started hanging out with the LAX team; the drama when he started _dating_ half the LAX team; the drama when he got sloppy drunk at Epikegster, punched his current LAX date mate in the face, and professed his feelings for both Tango _and_ Ford), he figured his shit out. He got past his crappy first impressions, his standoffish second impressions, and everything that came after that, and he turned it around.

He turned it around, he flourished under Bitty’s captainship, he spent time working with the spawn to make them feel like part of the team, and he deserves every good thing that’s been coming at him lately. Because _really_ , Will knows all about crappy first impressions and the importance of dragging your head out from your ass.

And, yeah.

Derek passes his pocket square over without a single chirp (it’s moss green and soft to the touch, subtle embroidery running along the edges that reeks of money and good taste, and it’s moments like this that still grate at Will, because it feels like such a waste of a luxury to just cry into), draping his arm along the back of Will’s chair as if to lend him strength.

It works, but that’s hardly the point.

“Shut up,” he mumbles under his breath, leaning into the steady warmth of Derek’s side as Whiskey gets up to give his speech. It’s probably heartfelt and beautiful, a tribute to his partners and the power of friendship or something, but Will’s too intent on not crying to pay too much attention.

* * *

After months of planning and secrecy and hard work, it just fucking figures that the hardest part of getting their plan together would be getting Bitty to actually show up after the team dinner.

“What do you mean he’s not coming,” Ford whisper-screams into her phone as Will skirts around her to finish setting up the projector. It’s the perfect night for a rooftop viewing, even with the lingering banquet emotions still weighing them down. And really, everything is going according to plan as long as you don’t count the fact that Chowder has yet to show up with the guest of honor. In hindsight, it was probably a mistake to give him that responsibility. As much as Bitty has a hard time saying no to Chowder, the whole feeling is completely mutual.

 _Pushovers_ , the both of them.

“What do you _mean_ he isn’t done passing on his ‘Captain’s Knowledge’ yet? _No_ , I’m not yelling at you, I just- look, anything you can do to get their bonding moment to migrate to Faber would be appreciated. Yeah, yeah. I _know_. I owe you one, Farmer, just make it happen. Bye.”

With a huff, she hangs up, careful to hand her phone off to Tango before flopping dramatically onto one of the piles of pillows that had been strategically placed around the roof. With both hands massaging her temples, she groans theatrically, and Will has to roll his eyes, because as much as she likes to bemoan the theater majors she hangs out with, she’s just as dramatic as they are.

From the corner of his eye, Will can see the exact moment when Rudy edges over, hands wrung in anxiety as he approaches Ford, his face radiating the kind of earnest emotion that Will had only seen in black-and-white television before the kid joined the team, and god damnit. That is a _bad move_. It’s a horrible call, and Will has half a mind to wave him over just to save the kid’s life, but then Sticks is grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away, and they both survive to live another day.

 _Freshmen_ , man.

Sometimes Will has to wonder if his class was that bad, but then he realizes that, _no_. There is literally _no way_.

When no one breaks the silence, Ford groans again before sitting up and scanning the rooftop for something to do.

“You need to chill,” Will says, and even though he can feel her eyes burning a hole in his head, he keeps the majority of his focus on hooking up his laptop to the projector. “We weren’t ready, anyway - the longer it takes for Bitty to break in our new captain, the better.”

“I can’t believe you just told me to chill. If your boyfriend heard that he would never let you hear the end of it, Poindexter.”

“What should I be giving him a hard time over?” Derek asks as he stumbles through the fire door, arms laden with trays of jello shots and jigglers. He’s halfway to tripping before the rest of the gang gets to him, Jack lending a steadying hand as Shitty and Whiskey take the sheet pans away from him.

“Oh, nothing,” Ford simpers, all innocence and sugar as she ever so obviously sets Will up for the chirping of the century. “I was just shocked that Dex, of all people, suggested I _chill_.”

Easy as anything, Derek laughs at that. Because he’s a dick, and because he’s always been better than Will when it comes to taking a joke. To rolling with it. To making it his own. “I mean, if _Will_ is telling you to chill, you probably need to. I mean, _damn_ , girl. Don’t tell me that after all those theater kids, all it took to break you was a bunch of hockey players.”

And, yeah. Even though Will’s focused on getting everything set up, he can still appreciate the way that Derek has mastered the art of diverting conversations. How he can take something and turn it on it’s head - how he can neutralize the same conversation that would have imploded in Will’s face if their places had been switched.

It’s something that used to drive him crazy in the beginning, how easily he could derail Will’s thoughts, sending him spinning out, frustrated and caught at a perpetual disadvantage… but once Derek started using that power for good? For _Will’s_ good?

Well, damn.

It’s actually pretty hot, which, in hindsight, explains a lot about freshman year.

“Okay everyone, this is a Code Red!” Ford stage whispers from where she’s still splayed out on cushions. “Farmer just texted that they’re ten minutes away.”

With one last double-click of the mouse, Will steps back from his laptop with a sigh of relief. Because, with all the various things that could have gone wrong, it’s been a relatively painless process to turn the Faber rooftop into a casual yet fabulous venue.

There are snacks, drinks, more pillows than Will can justify them owning collectively, and enough SMH players, alumni, and adjacent to make the area feel much more packed and intimate than a rooftop party should be.

“You need any help, my little snuffaluffagus?” Derek asks as he sidles up to where Will’s been camped out for the better part of the evening.

Even though it’s a humid, balmy night, Will still finds himself leaning into Derek’s chest, and it’s easier than anything they’ve put up with today to just let Derek wrap his arms around him. Because they fit.

“No, I’m good, babe. Video’s all set up, everyone’s here, we just need our captains to show.”

They’re pressed close enough where Will can feel Derek’s laughter, and it’s not as close as he wants to be to him right now, but it’s good enough. “ _God_ , our _captains_. There are _two_ of them, now.”

“I mean, technically five if we’re counting former captains too.” And, yeah. Technically that’s true, because Jack’s lingering over by the door, very clearly trying to be the first thing that Bitty sees when he steps through, and Ransom and Holster are hanging out by the drink table shooting the shit with Tango, Lardo, and Shitty. They’re pretty much drowning in captains tonight, but Will’s at the point where he can admit that the others don’t count. “They don’t really count though, do they?” From the way that Derek smiles at that, Will knows that he agrees. “I’m glad it was Chowder.”

“Yeah. _Yeah_. There really wasn’t another option, though. You know?” He looks so soft when he asks, and yeah. Will does know. Because, between the three of them, no one lives and breathes hockey like Chowder. And between the three of them, no one commands the respect of the team and the coaches like Chowder.

“Yeah. I don’t think the Haus could have taken the two of us living together if they voted one of us captain.”

“Oh god,” Derek groans, pulling Will closer even as he winces at the thought. “Can you imagine the shit show that could have happened if they voted us co-captains like Ransom and Holster?”

It shouldn’t be a funny thought, but it’s got Will cracking up anyway, and from the impatient look Ford shoots him from across the roof, that kind of loud noise making is not appreciated in the slightest when they’re actively trying to hold a surprise party.

Which. Is fair.

Another point to the team for voting in the right captain.

“You’re embarrassing me, muffinbutt,” Derek whispers under his breath, and holy shit, Will is going to get punched in the face by their manager because he can _not_ stop laughing. “If you keep this up, you’re _totally_ not getting any best friend sundaes for at _least_ a week.”

Will does his best to keep his answering snort quiet, muffling it into Derek’s chest to avoid certain managerially-induced death.

“You can still get the D though, sugar lips.”

And holy shit, Derek has a deathwish on his mind, and it’s all for Will. He’s five seconds from kicking Derek in the shin when the fire door swings open.

“SURPRISE!” Will shouts with the majority of the team, while Shitty throws himself before Bitty and Chowder, his shirt long gone as he lays prostrate before them.

“Oh captains, my captains!” He simpers, getting a laugh out of Bitty and a look of concern out of Chowder, because… yeah… the rooftop is _not_ a smooth surface. Abrasion is pretty much a given at this point, but Shitty doesn’t seem too broken up about it, allowing himself to be hoisted up when Jack offers him his hand.

“Y’all weren’t supposed to be here!” Bitty basically weeps as he takes in the scene, his eyes going round and wet the way they only do when Bitty gets overwhelmed and tender.

In the moment, Will can only imagine what he sees as he looks around. If pressed, he’d probably say that Bitty sees a rooftop of people that love him. Because that’s exactly what they’ve brought him.

Whatever it is that he _does_ see has him in tears pretty much instantly, and seriously, what the fuck, that’s officially fifty dollars that he now owes Tango. And, yeah. A quick glance to where he’s sitting between Ford and Whiskey tells Will all that he needs to know, the smirk that’s pasted on Tango’s face as he rubs his fingers together makes it clear that he’s expecting his money and he’s expecting it soon.

The little shit.

* * *

By the time that they get Bitty situated into one of the pillow nests closest to the projector screen, the jello shots have been demolished, drinks have been drank, and Will feels warm and loose, having passed his technological responsibilities to Booker about two drinks in - and, look, just because he’s Will’s favorite doesn’t mean that Will _deserves_ the eyeroll that Derek had sent him. Booker is his favorite for a _reason_ , that reason being that he’s not a complete moron.

Another two drinks and a plateful of jigglers later, and Will is feeling as good as can be, wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms, surrounded by all of his favorite people.

Up on the screen, the opening credits flash, bright white against an evening shot of the haus:

**DOWN**

_A SSSLSAFWTCB Production_

The beat kicks in, and the madness starts pretty much immediately as Will, Derek, and Chowder walk onto the scene. Ford had instructed them to _prowl_ but really they just look like poorly dressed scene kids who have had a few too many drinks. It’s not _pretty_ , but it does have Bitty dissolving into laughter pretty much immediately as they strike a pose.

Suddenly the camera shifts just as Tater pops up, leaning against the haus and lip syncing _horribly_ , but it just adds to the charm and weirdness of his whole rapping cameo. Because somehow there’s nothing more charmingly weird than a huge Russian professional hockey player mouthing along to a Fifth Harmony video while decked out in a necklace made out of twine, a bedazzled blueberry jam jar acting as the pendant.

It’s… a lot.

From the way that Bitty’s cackling in his seat of honor, though, he’s eating up every fucking second of it.

The song starts up in earnest with the first verse, and it’s just a collage of different cuts - Will and the rest of the frogs posing and writhing on their beds interspersed with the three of them dancing. The lighting that Ford managed to rig with a couple of stage hands that owed her a favor paints them in blues and purples and pinks, and it’s beautiful (at least, it’s as beautiful as a trio of hockey players can be in spandex, sequins, and ratty second-hand furs can be).

The choreography is tight, their lips are on point, and it’s a huge relief when the second verse kicks in - because, yeah, the frogs are still doing the choreography at that point, but that’s when the tadpoles come in. Easy as anything, Whiskey and Tango join the choreography as their own solo shots get cut into the video. The whole thing is a lot, because, while Dex can appreciate their manager, he’s never really understood the allure of her boyfriends. Probably because they’re basically like little brothers to him at this point, so watching them try to make love to the camera _knowing_ that their girlfriend was behind it? It’s… a little weird.

Of course, it just gets weirder when the spawn get added in on the chorus, because they’re basically babies. They’re freshmen babies, and Will’s at the point where he’s used to them and they can stay (some more than others, by which he means Booker), but it’s actually pretty creepy watching them make eyes at the camera as they wiggle and writhe to the beat. If he strains, he can almost get past how old he feels watching them dance and lip sync with the rest of the team, at which point he could admit - if asked - that the freshmen are actually pretty fucking good.

Like, Rudy kind of looks like an overinvested golden retriever, but that’s how he always looks when it comes to Bitty. The other two do a little better with capturing the vibe, though, all fierce looks and smirks and confidence. The confidence doesn’t really translate to Booker’s dancing, but Will forgives him for his lack of rhythm on the sole fact that he’s Will’s favorite. It also helps that Sticks is distracting attention away from Booker by fucking _killing_ it - from the dancing to the lip syncing itself, he’s a natural, and he more than makes up for Rudy’s puppy face and Booker’s stiff movements.

“Check out my _boy_ , lovebug, he’s so _good_ ,” Derek whispers with something that sounds like awe, and if this was a year ago, Will probably would have been jealous. As it is, the whole mutual fanboying between Derek and Sticks is way more hilarious than it is concerning. Because, yeah, apparently Sticks took one look at Derek during orientation and decided that _that_ was what he wanted to be when he grew up. Which, honestly, is pretty sad, because Sticks is the most genuinely chill and relaxed person that Will has met in his _life_ … which means that _Sticks_ is actually who Derek wants to be when _he_ grows up.

The whole thing is cute, and the way that Derek gets pumped up for his spawn kind of sometimes makes Will thinks about what Derek would be like with a kid of their own--not that he thinks about having kids with Derek too often or anything, and oh god, this is such a _not cool_ train of thought to be having right now. But then Tater’s back on screen, Ransom’s hollering like a star-struck idiot, and Will can’t help but lose himself to the madness of the video again.

Because, for some reason, Tater apparently managed to convince Ford that the best way for him to channel the energy of Gucci Mane was to surround him with what looks like hundreds of jars of Bitty’s blueberry jam. Like, he’s draped over the Haus’ front stoop, and he’s lip syncing horribly, and there is so much jam.

So much.

It must be an inside joke, though, because it’s got both Bitty _and_ Jack cracking up as Tater raises his cup to them, so. Blueberry jam is apparently a thing. Whatever.

From that point on, the video turns into a mess of _excess_ as the alumni join in with the choreography (and _yeah_ , Will can one hundred percent understand why Jack didn’t get a featured role in the last video, because the dude _cannot dance_ ) interspersed with shots of everyone splashing and frolicing in the jumbo inflatable above ground pool that Derek had tripped over while whining about the lameness of costume design.

Apparently it was Johnson’s, but when Ford had reached out to him to ask if they could use it, his voicemail was full, and the outgoing message instructed that anything of his that was found in the Haus was fair game.

Nice enough guy, that Johnson, but really fucking weird.

“I can’t believe that y’all did that,” Bitty says, loud enough for his voice to carry over the credits that Ford had insisted on, and yeah. He’s _crying_ , which means that any second from now, _Will_ is going to be crying, and the whole thing is going to be a mess. “I was _wondering_ what y’all were up to, what with the spawn looking so shifty all semester.

“And _you_ , Mr. Zimmermann, you told me that you wouldn’t be able to come up until tomorrow! In fact, all of you,” Bitty accuses as he glares at the cluster of alumni that’s been giggling pretty much nonstop since the video began, “ _all_ of you have been lying to me for _weeks_.”

“Don’t look at us, brah,” Shitty pipes up from where he’s pretty much buried beneath Lardo. “We may have lent our charm, uniqueness, nerve, talent, and synergy to this lip sync, but it _totally_ was not our idea.”

“Are you trying to imply that one of my boys plotted and hid this whole thing from me, Mr. Knight?” And, like. It’s pretty obvious that Bitty is joking. The teasing in his tone is evidence enough of this, but all of a sudden Rudy is standing up at pointing a finger at Will like his life depends on it, or some shit.

“It was _him_ ,” Sticks says, like some kind of reverse ‘ _I am Spartacus_ ’ moment, and for a second everything goes silent.

Until Derek starts giggling.

Which just kicks off Will’s giggling, and they’re just a fucking pile of giggling mess.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Derek cackles, “It was _you_.”

“It was _me_ ,” Will agrees, easy as anything before dissolving further into laughter.

And, like. It’s just so fucking funny. And maybe they’re more than a little drunk, and maybe Will has been fighting against waves of sadness and inevitability and wistfulness for weeks, and maybe Will needs this right now. Maybe this is what they’ve _all_ needed.

The laughter doesn’t really stop until Bitty plops down between them, dropping like a bag of fucking bricks, which is always so jarring because he looks so _small_. He looks _crazy_ small, but he weighs so much.

“William Poindexter,” he drawls in the ‘ _I’m terribly disappointed and deeply unsurprised_ ’ voice that Will has come to know very well after the past three years. “I cannot believe that you would do such a thing to me. How dare you make me cry my own damn tears.”

Derek snorts at that, but he’s not the one that Bitty’s got pinned with a death glare. Nope, that honor falls entirely to Will.

“If it helps, I was really, _really_ drunk when I first thought of it, and it would never have been _more_ than a passing drunk thought if _Derek_ hadn’t pushed it.” Unmoved, Bitty continues to stare Will down, and it’s a lot. “Look… the ‘Work From Home’ video was kind of hugely important to me. It’s the whole reason that Derek and I got together, and it was what really made me feel like part of the team.

“Ever since then, even though we’re _obviously_ not Fifth Harmony, I’ve always thought of you as our Camila. And. I don’t know, I was thinking about how Camila left the group, and how _you_ were leaving the team, and this just. It seemed like the thing to do. For you. And a little bit for me.”

Will doesn’t expect it when Bitty snorts at that, a rough little spin on a laugh, but it happens all the same.

“Only you would figure out how to make yourself sound selfish in order to deflect from the good that you’ve done me. Now, I’m going to make myself comfortable so that I can watch your masterpiece all over again, but you come find me tomorrow. I’m gonna teach you my Moomaw’s recipe.” With a pat to the knee, Bitty picks himself up and makes his way back to Jack’s lap. Which is nice, but…

“Wait,” Will yells after him, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Your Moomaw’s recipe for what?”

“Everything!” Bitty answers without bothering to look back at where Will is gaping. “You better come ready to learn, Dex. We’re gonna be busy all day.”

And, yeah. Will is going to have to bring a notepad and at least a few pens, because he has been begging Bitty for his Moomaw’s recipes for years now, and Bitty has never been interested in sharing. Family recipes, and all that, and really - Will had respected that. Will had _understood_ , even if it had left him more than a little disappointed.

“You realize that everyone’s going to be looking to you next year for baked goods, right?” Derek asks, arm reaching around Will’s shoulders to pull him close.

“I can’t believe that he wants to share his recipes.”

“C’mon, Will,” Derek murmurs as he runs a careful hand through Will’s hair, soft and full of reverence, and Will is going to cry _again_ if he keeps this up. “I would have been shocked if he _didn’t_. You may not have done this alone, but it _was_ your idea. You gave him something hilarious and beautiful and perfect to take with him when he moves on. You showed him just how much his family _loves_ him, and that’s something special. _You’re_ something special, my sun and stars.”

And, yeah, here come the tears. It’s force of habit that has Will ducking down to tuck his face into the crook of Derek’s neck, just like he’s pretty sure it’s programmed in for Derek to pull him closer, on hand at the small of Will’s back as the other keeps stroking through Will’s hair, and Will isn’t strong enough for all of this emotion right now. Not when he’s feeling so tender.

“I love you,” Derek says, soft and intent as he presses his lips to Will’s temple, and it’s perfect. This whole messy, emotional, ridiculous night is perfect, and it’s stupid. It’s so, _so_ stupid, because Will owes the whole thing to a lip sync.

And that is not something he could have ever anticipated when Bitty first gave him a goody bag and a smile.

The whole thing has just snowballed, and even if he could, Will wouldn’t change a damn thing.

With that realization sinking deep into his center, Will nuzzles deeper into Derek’s side, pressing a kiss to his neck and his cheek and his lips. It’s a chaste series of kisses, soft and tender and just barely there, and yeah.

Maybe there are worse things than owing everything to Fifth Harmony.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this over and shared their time and their suggestions on how to make this silly story what it is today. <3
> 
> PS - MANY SPECIAL THANKS TO DIZZYREDHEAD FOR LISTENING TO ME WHINE ABOUT THIS FOR THE PAST ETERNITY AND A HALF <3 <3


End file.
